


Taken

by stickdonkeys



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Consensual, M/M, Non Consensual, Public Sex, and an alternate ending that will rip the soul right out of you, cannon compliant alternate ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-04
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-04 06:59:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/707876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stickdonkeys/pseuds/stickdonkeys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Azog and his orcs catch up to Thorin and Company before they reach Mirkwood while Gandalf is "scouting ahead." Bilbo finds himself bearing the full brunt of Azog's hatred for Thorin.In the white orc's desire to hurt the Dwarf King, Bilbo loses something precious that he can never recover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Forcefully Taken

The call to arms came so suddenly that Bilbo started awake, his heart pounding in his ears so loudly that he could not even here the sounds of battle surrounding him. Even without being able to hear it, he could see it. The clearing they had made camp in was filled with orcs. Thankfully the dwarves had not been taken by surprise, but it would still be a hard battle. They were greatly outnumbered but they were holding their own and even Bilbo had managed to make his mark on the fray killing an orc. 

As he pulled his blade from its chest, Bilbo felt himself lifted into the air by his hair and felt something sharp at his throat.

“Put down your weapons,” he heard a harsh voice call. “Put them down or I slit his throat and drink his blood.” Thorin turned at the voice and saw Bilbo suspended by his hair by none other than Azog the Defiler, his iron claw pressed against the hobbit’s throat. He glanced around for a way to free him but could see no way that he could do it before the orc ripped his throat out.

“Choose now, Thorin Oakenshield. Surrender or I kill this creature,” the Defiler said once more. And just to prove his seriousness he pressed his claw a bit deeper into the hobbit’s flesh drawing a bead of blood. Bilbo flinched in pain and met Thorin’s eyes, silently begging him for forgiveness. He hadn’t meant to place the King in such a position. 

Thorin couldn’t read the reason behind it, but he understood that the hobbit was begging him to do something. Even without the pleading in his frightened eyes, Thorin could not have stood by and allowed any member of the company to be killed if he could prevent it. There was no choice to make. With a growl he bent and placed his sword on the ground. Seeing their King surrender, the other dwarves followed suit. 

Instantly orcs were upon them binding their hands and forcing them to their knees as they took their concealed weapons. Even in the position he was currently in, Bilbo had to marvel at the sheer number of weapons the dwarves managed to carry on their persons. Each one of them was a walking arsenal. With the threat subdued, Azog passed the hobbit to another orc—who proceeded to bind his hands as well—and walked towards Thorin.

“So, that was the secret to capturing the great Thorin Oakenshield,” Azog mocked sneering down at the bound and disarmed Dwarf King. “I just had to threaten his pet.”

“Bilbo’s not a pet,” Kíli snarled struggling against the orc that held him in his desire to attack Azog for insulting the hobbit. “He’s a member of this company.”

“A beardless being the companion of dwarves?” Azog sneered. “I think not. Either he is a pet or he . . .” sudden understanding dawned in the orc’s face and he smiled cruelly at Thorin. “He is your mate. Someone to keep you company on this quest. He could have no other purpose. He is obviously no warrior.” 

“That is not true,” Thorin said almost desperately. “I have never touched him.” He did not know what Azog would do to Bilbo if he believed him to be Thorin’s mate, but he would spare him that if he could. Especially as what Thorin had said was true. He might harbor fond feelings for the hobbit, but he had never touched him.  
“Is that so? Tell me, creature,” Azog asked in the same gravely tone he had used before, “have you ever been taken? And if not, do you have an interest in being?”

“Taken?” Bilbo said hoping that by being cooperative he could stall until he came up with a plan to free them. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.” He may not have, but the dwarves did and began to struggle against the orcs that held them. That thing was not going to touch Bilbo in that way. Rather than say anything, Azog looked levelly at Thorin and placed his hook against the hobbit’s neck once more drawing another bead of blood.

“Stop,” Thorin called feeling like he had ripped his own heart from his chest with the word. “Stop your struggles or they will kill him.” He was breathing through his teeth in his frustration. He hated feeling powerless and there was nothing that he could do to save Bilbo from the fate that was coming. He had never felt so helpless in his entire life. 

“Azog,” Thorin said looking at the orc that had slain his grandfather. “Take me instead. What honor is there in taking the hobbit when you could have a king?” He knew that he was pleading and he couldn’t care less. He could not stand by and watch the hobbit violated without trying to stop it.

“I do not desire honor, son of Thráin,” the orc replied with a wicked smile. “I desire to see you suffer. And I believe it will pain you more to watch as I take this one that to be taken yourself.” Thorin did not reply, but the fury that burned in his blue eyes told the Defiler everything that he needed to know. He had been right. With a curt nod to the orc that held Bilbo, it produced a knife and began to remove Bilbo’s clothing. At the action, his eyes went wide. 

What did they intend to do to him that he need to be naked for? He wasn’t sure, but he knew that it could be nothing good. He looked at Thorin for some kind of reassurance, but the eyes of the dwarf king were haunted and his face held a pained expression that did nothing to calm Bilbo’s nerves. The others were less help than Thorin had been as most of them could not bring themselves to look at the hobbit. Even Kíli—who had not taken his eyes off Bilbo since he had been captured—had looked away in shame.

“What are you doing?” Bilbo demanded as they forced him to his knees and pressed his face into the earth. Were they going to beat him? He knew that they intended to cause him pain in order to hurt Thorin, and had already decided that he would not cry out if he was able to avoid it even though he had already begun to tremble at the thought of pain. It was his fault that they were in this position in the first place. If only he hadn’t been captured the dwarves would never have surrendered. He would do what he could to keep from causing them more pain. He only hoped he would be strong enough to withstand whatever the orcs had planned for him.  
What he wasn’t prepared for was the feeling of the orc’s hand caressing his backside. He jumped at the gentle touch and heard the Defiler laugh.

“So sensitive,” he said grinning at Thorin taking pleasure in the dwarf’s impotent furry before he wrapped his clawed arm around Bilbo’s waist to hold the hobbit in place and forced a finger into his opening. Bilbo let out a pained gasp at the intrusion and instinctively tried to arch his back but the Defiler’s grip on his waist and the orc that had stripped him’s grip on his hair prevented the movement. He felt a shudder go through him as Azog moved his finger. It felt wrong. He felt his muscles clinch in an attempt to keep the foreign object out. Even though it caused him pain, he couldn’t seem to keep from doing it.

He let out a little cry as a second finger was added and the orc began to brutally stretch the opening. He now knew what “taken” meant and he was more terrified now that he had been when he had thought that they were going to beat him. This couldn’t be about to happen. Even orcs were not so depraved as to rape him in front of and audience, were they? Well, he IS called the Defiler, a portion of his mind whispered.

Thorin flinched as Bilbo cried out. The little sound, so filled with pain and desperation pierced him to his core. He pulled in vain on his bonds needing to know that he had at least tried to come to Bilbo’s aid. He could see the muscles in the hobbit’s back and legs jumping as they tried to resist the intrusion and it was everything he could do not to tell Bilbo to just relax. He knew that it would save the hobbit pain if he would, but he could not bring himself to tell the hobbit to submit to the orc. Thorin felt his eyes go wide with fear as he heard his youngest nephew’s voice.

“Please,” Kíli begged. “Stop this. What do you desire? We will give it to you if we can. Just don’t do this.” Thorin closed his eyes and breathed through his teeth as he heard the sound of flesh smacking flesh and his nephew’s pained cry. He hated knowing that he couldn’t even protect his own kin. He felt absolutely worthless.

“Silence, dwarf scum,” and orc ground out, the words punctuated by a thud and a cough followed by a moan that told Thorin the orc had kicked Kíli even though he could see him around his own orc guards.

“Let them talk,” Azog purred. “It makes this all the more fun.” He punctuated his words by moving his fingers particularly viciously and making Bilbo cry out again before he pulled his fingers free and lined himself up with the partially prepared hole. He had done just enough to ensure his entry without injuring himself but had left it closed enough that it his initial thrust would still cause the creature the dwarf King was so fond of pain. 

Bilbo breathed a sigh of relief as the fingers were withdrawn. He had known that the orc would not really go through with it. It had all been a bluff. Kíli’s plea had been what he wanted to hear and now they were done with this. If only he had been right. No sooner had the thought crossed his mind then he felt pressure at his entrance seconds before the Defiler grabbed his hip with his good hand and buried himself in the hobbit.

Despite what Bilbo had told himself about refusing to cry out, he could not help himself. Every time the orc thrust into him a cry rose up his throat. And between the cries, sobs could be heard. He wasn’t sure what he was more ashamed of. The fact that he was being violated or the fact that he was weeping while it happened. He needn’t have been ashamed of his tears. Few of the dwarves were dry-eyed at what was happening to the hobbit. Though they had looked away, unable to watch, the sounds of flesh smacking flesh and the Bilbo’s cries were almost worse than seeing it had been.

The exception was Thorin. He was not crying or looking away but his eyes burned with hatred as he watched. Oh, he wanted to look away, but he felt that he owed it to Bilbo not to. If the hobbit could be forced to endure it, he could force himself to witness it. So witness it he did. He jaw clinched so tightly that he feared her would break his teeth but he did not care. 

After what seemed like an eternity, the orc finished and pulled out of the hobbit. He wiped himself off on the hobbit’s leg before releasing him and letting him fall to the ground where Bilbo curled up into a ball and continued to sob. 

“Worthless creature,” Azog grumbled as he aimed a kick at the hobbit’s ribs causing him to cry out once more before turning to face the dwarves. At the hatred burning in Thorin’s eyes, he smiled. He had felt the dwarf King’s eyes on him the entire time and knew that he had watched the entire show. Which was good as it had been for his benefit. 

“Since you made such a good audience, Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, I will let you choose the fate of this creature,” Azog said speaking to everyone though his words were addressed to Thorin. “You have three choices: I can kill him now—probably the most merciful option; I can give him to the boys for the night and kill him come dawn,” here the surrounding orc began to jeer, and Thorin’s eyes hardened even more, “or, I can keep him as a pet and he can keep me company at night for as long as he lasts. Choose.”

“You bastard,” snarled a voice that sounded suspiciously like Bofur’s though the toymaker’s voice had never held such anger before. “Those are not choices!” The other dwarves grumbled in agreement so Azog nodded to one of the orcs holding the toymaker and a thud and a moan followed. 

“Choose,” Azog repeated. Thorin closed his eyes and a pained expression crossed his face. Had he spared Bilbo’s life only for him to be caused pain before he was killed? If that was the case it would have been more merciful for him to have let Azog kill him when he was captured. He knew which of the choices he should pick, but he couldn’t bring himself to be the one who gave the word that ended the hobbit’s life.

“Are those my only options?” Thorin asked in a broken voice. The company felt their hearts go out to their King. They did not envy him this choice and understood the pain he was experiencing. None of them wanted to be the one to condemn Bilbo to either pain or death or both.

“No,” the orc replied slowly, a smile Thorin did not like one bit spreading across his face. “I will offer you one final option. You may take the creature, in front of everyone here, and then be the one to take his life.” Thorin thought through his options. There was no good choice. If he took the first one . . . well the orc had not said how they would kill Bilbo and Thorin knew that they would choose the most vile way they could conceive to do it. Bilbo would suffer before he died. The second and third did not even bear consideration. He would not condemn Bilbo to more violation before his death. That left only the fourth. While it was almost more distasteful that the others, he knew that Bilbo’s death at his hands would be swift and painless. It was the only choice he could make. As much as it pained him to do so. And if things went how he hoped they would he might not have to go through with it at all.

“Choose, or I will,” Azog threatened darkly. 

“I have made my choice,” Thorin choked out feeling his face contort as he spoke. It was not difficult to keep the hope out of his eyes, even if they managed to escape Bilbo would not be the same.

“What will be his fate?” the orc replied looking at the King levelly. He fought back his smile, he could see the pain in the dwarf’s eyes and knew what his choice would be before it was even spoken.

“I choose the fourth option,” Thorin paused before he continued. “I will publically take him before he dies by my hand.”The orcs cheered at his answer while the dwarves felt numb. Thorin could not really mean to take the hobbit and then kill him, could he? There had to be another plan. They didn’t know it yet but Thorin had to have a plan. He couldn’t really do it, could he? He had to be lying.

Thorin had not lied, however. He spoke the truth; it was just a matter of inflection. His words had been true, but the meaning had not been what everyone took it to mean. He would choose to have sex with Bilbo in public before he would choose to kill him, but as neither thing would ever happen it was a moot point. What mattered was that the Defiler through he had agreed.

“However,” Thorin continued, “I will not mate with him with either of us bound.” Rather than protest, Azog nodded to one of Thorin’s guards who roughly cut the ties binding his arms behind his back. The move had been rough and Thorin could feel blood beginning to flow from a cut on his wrist but he did not care. A little blood loss never hurt much. He rose trying to keep his head held high as he walked to Bilbo’s side and knelt beside the hobbit. He gently brushed the brown curls away from Bilbo’s forehead before he turned to Azog. 

“Let me untie him,” Thorin demanded. Again the orc nodded and a knife was suddenly being pressed into the King’s hand. He gently cut the ties binding the hobbit and set the knife on the ground beside them. Once he was free, Bilbo grabbed the collar of Thorin’s coat and buried his face in the dwarf King’s chest.

“I’m so sorry,” Bilbo kept muttering. “Thorin, I’m so sorry.” Thorin placed his arms around the hobbit’s sobbing form and closed his eyes against the tears that threatened to spill at his apology. If anything, Thorin owed the hobbit an apology for getting him into this situation, not the other way around. 

“Hush, Halfling,” Thorin whispered in his ear. “Everything will be fine. I have a plan. We will have to make it appear we intend to go through with it, but I swear I will not hurt you. Do you trust me?” He felt the hobbit nod against him and felt his heart swell at the fact that the hobbit could still trust him after what had happened. 

“Good,” Thorin whispered before he raised his voice and continued the ruse. “Are you ready?” Bilbo pulled back and looked up at him with tear-filled hazel eyes that shone with trust before he nodded. Thorin nodded and removed his coat placing it on the grass before he laid the hobbit gently onto it. The dwarves gasped as Thorin lay gently atop the hobbit, his hair forming a curtain around them; he did mean to do it then.

“When I say to, slip on my coat and follow my lead,” Thorin whispered under the pretense of nuzzling the hobbit’s neck. “We will fight our way out of this yet. The knife they gave me is next to your hand. Try to free the others and kill anything you can. Show no remorse.”

Bilbo whimpered at the command but nodded his head. “On three. One,” Thorin raised himself up on his elbows. “Two,” he was now on his knees. “Three,” he  
mouthed before launching himself at the pile of weapons and closing his hand around the first handle he touched. It was Dwalin’s war hammer. With a battle cry, he swung it at the first orc within range, hitting it in the torso and feeling bone crumple at the blow. Before it could hit the ground he had moved on to the next orc. 

True to Thorin’s command, the second the King had moved from atop him, Bilbo had trust his arms through Thorin’s coat—feeling all the world like a child playing dress up as he was engulfed in the fabric—and had grabbed the knife, using the distraction the Dwarf King was providing to sneak quietly to Kíli’s side as the youngest dwarf was also the nearest. He ignored the pain that passed through him in waves as he moved. There would be time to tend his hurts later . . . if they survived. And to survive, Thorin would need backup. He was a great warrior but he could not do this alone. 

The second Kíli was free, he dove for the pile of weapons as well, coming up with Glóin’s ax and not even pausing before swinging it at an orc that had been prepared to stab Thorin in the back and removing its head from its shoulders. While they were at it, Bilbo—still unnoticed by the orcs—crept to Dwalin and cut his bonds as well. He smashed the heads of his jailer’s together with a sickening crunch before he too grabbed a weapon and began dealing bloody death to all the orcs within reach. 

It continued in this manner for some time, until Azog grew suspicious as to how the dwarves were getting free and began to look for a way to stop this again before his entire force was decimated by them. He looked once more for the hobbit, knowing that the first time had not been a fluke and that he would make the perfect hostage once more. He found both of his answers at once as he saw the hobbit move toward the last knot of dwarves. Azog felt a smile cross his face as he closed the distance between them and bent to grab the creature by the hair once more.

What he didn’t realize was that Bilbo had heard him coming and rolled at the last second before swiping at the hand reaching for him viciously with the knife he carried. He didn’t even flinch when the black blood spurted across his face before the hand was withdrawn with a howl of pain and two fingers dropped to the ground. The orc’s eyes flared with anger and he kicked the hobbit in the side causing him to fly a little ways before he hit the ground hard. He was so focused on getting revenge for his lost fingers that he did not notice as Thorin crept up behind him. He heard the war cry, but before he could turn to face his opponent, Thorin swung the great war-hammer and removed his head. 

As the body slumped to the ground, Thorin gave it one final, disdainful look before he left it where it lay and moved around it to check on the hobbit, who had still not stirred. Tossing the knife Bilbo had dropped to Fíli, Thorin knelt beside him and slapped his cheek gently. The hobbit’s eyes fluttered and opened to reveal confused hazel eyes.

“Thorin?” he mumbled. “What—“

“Hush Bilbo,” Thorin replied. “Yes, it’s me. But we need to move. This battle is probably about to intensify.” The hobbit nodded and moved to stand, flinching as he did. Thorin closed his eyes and fought the urge to clinch his hands into fists since he had the hobbit by the arms and knew that would hurt him. He wished that he would have had the time to kill the Defiler in a more appropriate way. 

But Thorin had been mistaken. The battle did not intensify, but rather fell apart at the death of the white orc. Leaderless the orcs no longer felt the need to pit themselves against the angered and armed dwarves and began to flee into the woods. 

“Don’t let them escape!” Thorin called. The dwarves were more than happy to comply and pursued the orcs and cut every last one of them down. Eventually Dwalin returned and looked at Thorin before giving him a grim nod. 

“Pack up camp,” Thorin said curtly. “We will not stay here.” There was no complaint even though they had gotten little sleep the night before. No one desired to stay there a moment longer than they needed to—Bilbo less than anyone. As soon as they could, they returned all the weapons to their rightful owners and packed up the bedrolls while Bilbo redressed himself from his spare clothes without looking at any of the dwarves. He didn’t want to talk about what had happened. And neither did they.

As the company moved out, even though they refused to talk about it, the dwarves did notice the fact that Bilbo limped rather pathetically and that occasionally a small sob or whimper would pass his lips. They wished that there was something they could do to help him, and none more-so that Thorin. He blamed himself for what had happened to the hobbit. 

Even though he wanted to put as much distance between them and the clearing as he could, he knew that it would be cruel to force Bilbo to travel far that day. Mercifully, there was another alcove presented itself soon, and this one had a stream where they could bathe. He knew that Bilbo would appreciate that small mercy even if nothing would ever actually wash away what had happened. 

ooOO88OOoo

Rather than travel that day, they stayed by the stream and nursed their wounds. Bofur had a nasty knot on the side of his head from where the orc had struck him and Kíli had a couple of bruised ribs and a black eye. Numerous other members had small cuts from the battle but Bilbo was the worst. Oin had gently treated the puncture wounds on his neck and the one on his hip, but the majority of his wounds were mental and there was nothing they could do for him. 

Balin volunteered to keep watch while the others rested. No one felt like arguing, save for Kíli who offered to sit with him since he didn’t think he could sleep after what he had witnessed. The rest of them bedded down despite the fact that the sun was just beginning to rise above the horizon, and tried to ignore quiet sobs that were coming from Bilbo’s bedroll. It was when the sobs faded and turned into snores that Thorin allowed himself to move nearer to the hobbit.

He sighed as he looked down at the sleeping face of the hobbit. He looked so peaceful that if he hadn’t known what the hobbit had just been forced through he would never have realized it. His face was smooth and unlined. His breathing even and steady. Thorin sighed and gently ran his fingers through the soft damp curls. Bilbo moaned slightly and moved away from the touch. With a sad smile Thorin retracted his hand and leaned against the rock behind him fully intending to watch over Bilbo all day. 

ooOO88OOoo

Thorin woke a few hours later to the sound of panicked cries. He grabbed his sword before his eyes were even open entirely. But there was no danger. The cries were coming from the hobbit that had been resting peacefully at his feet. Now, however, his sleep was not peaceful. He was tossing and moaning. A plaintive string of pleas coming from his lips. Thorin quickly scrabbled to his side and shook him. Bilbo did not instantly wake, but rather knocked away the hands on his shoulders.  
Rather than give up, the dwarf King grabbed both of Bilbo’s smaller hands in his own and grabbed his shoulder once more. Bilbo gave another cry and then shot straight up, his eyes wide with panic. Once he saw that it was Thorin who was holding him, his panic faded replaced instead by sorrow.

“I’m sorry,” Bilbo cried. “I didn’t mean to wake you. It was just that I had a nightmare.” A shudder wracked his small form and Thorin drew him into a hug on instinct.

“It is fine, Bilbo,” Thorin said his voice gentle. “It is only natural that you would after what happened today.” He heard the hobbit sob again as Bilbo leaned into the embrace of the Dwarf King. “Do you wish to talk about it?”

“No,” Bilbo replied shaking his head. “Not really.” Thorin nodded. He had expected that would be the answer but had offered in case he was mistaken. He began to  
hum quietly, hoping to soothe the hobbit back into sleep before the memories could begin to haunt him.

“Why would anyone willingly do that?” Bilbo asked suddenly. He may never have engaged it in, but he knew that many others—including some members of the company—did. He couldn’t see why they would. There had been absolutely no pleasure to be had in the act. 

“It is not always like that,” Thorin replied, his eyes sad. Had he have been Bilbo’s first the hobbit would not now be asking him this question. He would have been gentle with him. 

“Even so,” Bilbo replied a shudder going through him as he recalled the feeling of the orc deep within him, “I can’t see where it would be pleasant.” Thorin hummed in response. He had never been on that end of sex. No one had ever taken him, but he knew that it could be pleasurable if the taker exercised care.

“It can be,” Thorin replied. “Both parties can enjoy it if it is done correctly.” Heaving a sigh he decided that while they were on the subject he might as well go all the way with it. “If you are ever curious about how it can be pleasurable, I would be more than willing to show you.” He felt Bilbo stiffen in his arms and realized that he may have made a mistake. “Come to me when you are ready. And if you never are, that is fine as well.” The hobbit nodded, but said nothing. 

“You should sleep, if you are able,” Thorin said after some time had passed. “No harm will come to you.” Even once Bilbo’s breathing even out once more, Thorin did not release him. He sat there throughout the day, dosing off and on, with the hobbit in his arms.


	2. Willingly Given

Over the next few weeks, Bilbo healed physically and his nightmares faded until they were rarer than once a week, always taking place on the nights Thorin was on watch rather than sleeping beside him. Even so, he still jumped at shadows and would flinch away from casual contact if he didn't see who it was that had touched him. The dwarves tried to tread carefully around the hobbit; it was not hard for them to remember. His eyes held a perpetually haunted look that reminded them all of what had happened that fateful night. They may have won the battle, but much had been lost.

It had been nearly a month since the attack when Bilbo sat down next to Thorin one night after dinner. "Do you remember what you told me?" Bilbo asked suddenly. Thorin thought a moment before understanding dawned in his eyes.

"That night?" Thorin asked wanting clarification but not sure what words to use to describe what they were talking about.

"Yes," Bilbo said looking at him steadily. "I think I'm ready." To say that he was surprise would be the understatement of the century. He had been kind to the hobbit, but he hadn't realized that Bilbo harbored  _those_  feelings for him.

"Are you sure?" Thorin asked, keeping his tone neutral. Bilbo nodded and Thorin smiled before reaching into his bag where he kept some leather oil before offering Bilbo a hand and leading him into the woods. Thorin had thought long about this since that night and realized that there was really only one thing that he could do. He would have to submit himself to the hobbit. It was the only apology he could offer and even it was not enough. However it was something. He would give Bilbo something no one had ever taken from him in exchange for what had been taken from the hobbit for his sake.

"Remove your clothes," Thorin said gently once he felt they were far enough from camp. The hobbit swallowed at the order but began to undo the buttons of his shirt and the laces of his pants as Thorin began to remove his own clothing stopping once he reached his small clothes. The King had wanted to help the hobbit but had been unsure as to how he would react to being undressed by another. Keeping this in mind, Thorin stopped removing his own clothing once he was down to his smallclothes. This would move at Bilbo's pace. It was for him, after all.

"You can remove them when you are ready," Thorin said in reply to Bilbo's questioning glance. "May I touch you?" Bilbo swallowed but nodded, nervousness clear on his face he watched as Thorin's hand neared his skin. He flinched slightly but did not pull away. Thorin ran his hands up the hobbit's arms and over the smooth, hairless planes of his chest and back, feeling the tension in the muscles as he did so.

"We do not have to do this," Thorin reminded him. "You are free to change your mind."

"No," Bilbo replied, shaking his head and taking a deep breath. "I want to."

"Then relax," Thorin said, his voice little more than a purr. "I will not hurt you. You are safe. You have no need to fear me." At the honesty in his tone and the fierce gentleness in the blue gaze that was locked on him, Bilbo felt himself begin to relax into the touches of the dwarf King.

"That's better," Thorin said offering the hobbit praise. He leaned in to press a delicate kiss to the hobbit's lips. Bilbo sighed against him and raised a hand as though to touch Thorin before dropping it to his side once more.

"You may touch me as well," Thorin offered pulling back slightly. Bilbo offered him a small smile before raising a tentative hand and placing it his chest. The fingers shook slightly, from fear or anticipation, the King did not know. But slowly, almost painfully so, Bilbo began stroking him, a look of pure concentration and almost confusion on his face as his fingers carded through the dark hair he found there. Thorin felt himself jump slightly as Bilbo ran a tentative finger over his nipple, causing the sensitive flesh to pucker. At the look of innocent fascination in Bilbo's eyes as he looked up at him, Thorin felt himself begin to grow hard.

He closed his eyes as Bilbo's slender finger traced an old scar on his chest, a barely there touch that caused the surrounding flesh to raise in gooseflesh. He didn't remember how he had gotten that one, but he knew that no one had ever touched him so gently in all his adult life. Even his past lovers, when he had taken them, had only touched him when they were in the throes of passion, their touches all burning caresses and fingernails. This . . . this was different but no less arousing.

He took a deep breath and swallowed hard. He knew that Bilbo had no idea what he was doing to him, but that was part of the allure of it. He also knew that he needed to let the hobbit do as he wished. They could take as much time as they needed. The others knew better than to come looking for them.

"Would it be alright if I . . . well . . . may I," Bilbo stuttered. "May I kiss you?" Thorin felt his eyes fly open in shock at the question.

"What?" He asked, sure that he had not heard the hobbit properly.

"Never mind," Bilbo replied flushing furiously. "It was a stupid question." Thorin smiled at him. Only Bilbo would think that it was a stupid question to ask the man who was about to become your lover if you could kiss him. Rather than respond with words, Thorin bent down and placed his lips firmly against Bilbo's. The hobbit moaned into his mouth and grabbed the back of his neck in an attempt to deepen the kiss. The dwarf felt shock—he hadn't known that the hobbit knew about kissing—but allowed him to do it.

Bilbo had never thought that he would be kissing another male, let alone a dwarf with a beard, but he found that as they kissed the scrape of Thorin's beard on the sensitive skin of his face and neck actually heightened the experience. Even if it was one he had never thought to have, it was not an experience he regretted. He enjoyed kissing the dwarf king and was certain that he had made the right decision in allowing Thorin to introduce him to the pleasure that could be had with another man.

"What should we do next?" Bilbo asked breathlessly when they finally came up for air. He felt like a fool having to ask, but he had never done this willingly before and had absolutely no idea how to proceed. He was relieved when Thorin did not look at him like a fool. His eyes remained soft, the blue of them more like molten with desire.

"If you mean to go through with it," Thorin said gently, his voice little more than a rumble across Bilbo's eardrums, "then we both need to be naked. If you're ready, remove the rest of my clothing and yours."

"Can . . . can you do it?" Bilbo asked shyly. "Mine I mean. I-I would like it if you would . . . take off the rest." The king nodded and slowly moved his hands to the buttons that were holding up Bilbo's underwear. He kept eye contact with the hobbit and waited for him to nod his consent before he released the now separated sides of fabric and allowed them to fall to the ground. He still held Bilbo's eyes as he felt the hobbit fumble with his own buttons before allowing his underwear to fall to the ground as well and stepping out of them.

Bilbo looked at the dwarf king and suddenly he felt startlingly inadequate. Thorin was all hard planes and chiseled muscle. Even if Bilbo didn't find him attractive in that way, he would have had to have admitted that the Dwarf King was a fine specimen of a dwarf—not that he had seen many naked dwarves, but he supposed it must be true. He reached out to touch the king again, his eyes begging for permission and waiting until Thorin nodded before he closed the last bit of air that separated them.

Thorin let out a gasp as he felt Bilbo touch him in his most intimate place. The touches, though feather-light and tentative, left a trail of fire in their wake. They aroused him to no end and he wanted nothing more than to feel the hobbit around him took him until they reached completion together. He wondered how such a gentle creature could bring out such primal desires in him even as he knew that—at least for that night—he would need to restrain himself.

"I'm sorry," Bilbo said retracting his hand. "I didn't mean to—"

"You did not hurt me," Thorin said trying to reassure the skittish hobbit. "I enjoyed your touch. Please, do not stop." Looking at Thorin as though he doubted his words, Bilbo reached out cautiously and stoked the dwarf king again. After a moment, Bilbo looked up at him shyly, his hazel eyes clouded with passion.

"You are allowed to touch me as well, you know," Bilbo said with a small smile on his face. At the invitation, Thorin gently reached out and stroked the hobbit, feeling rewarded when Bilbo moaned at the contact. Perhaps he had never been with another before. That would explain his tentative nature. As the thought crossed his mind, Thorin felt furry burn though his veins. If Bilbo had been a virgin, what Azog had done to him was all the more despicable. No one should have their first sexual experience in such a fashion—or any sexual experience for that matter, but especially not the first.

"What comes next?" Bilbo asked, his breath hitching a bit as Thorin stroked him.

"What would you like to come next?" Thorin asked in return. "There are many things we can do other than  _that._ Would you like to try them?" Bilbo shook his head in response. He had come to satisfy one curiosity. The others could wait. Thorin sighed. He had known this time would come.

"In that case, you will need to prepare me," Thorin said trying to keep the tension from his voice. He knew that he needed to do this, but it did not stop him from feeling nervous.

"What?" Bilbo asked. He knew that he could not have heard the King correctly.

"You will need to help prepare me," Thorin repeated. "If we do not do this properly it will only hurt us both. With the correct preparation it will not hurt either of us when you take me."

"But . . . I can't  _take_  you," Bilbo gasped out. He hadn't been expecting this. He had expected that Thorin would take him, not the other way around. There had to be some mistake.

"You can," Thorin replied soothingly. "I will walk you through it. Trust me." The hobbit bit his lip but then nodded. He could do this. Thorin smiled at him reassuringly before he took a deep breath and knelt in front of the hobbit.

"No," Bilbo said his voice thick with panic. "Is there no other way we can do this? I-I can't . . . not like that." Thorin growled low in his throat in frustration at himself. He should have known that Bilbo would not appreciate that position. He should have known.

"There are others," Thorin replied rolling onto his back. "However, that one is the easiest."

"Please," Bilbo begged his eyes wide and desperate. "Pick another. I-I just . . . not that one."

"Hush," Thorin whispered pulling the hobbit down against him. "We can try another. I apologize for upsetting you." He gently kissed Bilbo's neck, where a small white scar remained as a testament to the hurt he had suffered at the hands of the Defiler.

"Does this position please you?" the King asked in a quiet voice. The hobbit nodded against him. "Then we can do it this way." Bilbo looked at him, his hazel eyes bright with admiration. The king smiled at the hobbit and handed him the oil he had brought with them. Bilbo looked at it in confusion. Why had Thorin handed him leather oil?

"It helps ease the entry," Thorin explained. "It reduces the friction and minimizes the pain of it."

"So it will hurt you?" Bilbo asked, his voice showing how much he detested the idea. He wanted to satisfy his curiosity, but not at the cost of harming Thorin.

"No," the King shook his head to show his sincerity. "At the most it will be a bit uncomfortable. But that stage will soon pass, or so I am told." Bilbo looked unconvinced so Thorin placed a hand on his cheek and looked into his eyes. "I swear to you," Thorin said levelly. "If you hurt me, we will stop." Bilbo still looked nervous, but he nodded his agreement.

"Good," the King said. "Now coat your fingers with the oil." Bilbo did as he was told. He found that he was somewhat fascinated by the way the oil slid between his fingers. "Next . . . next you need to insert one of your fingers into me." Bilbo nodded and slowly pressed his finger into the opening of the dwarf king, flinching as Thorin gasped when he passed through the internal ring of muscle.

"I'm fine," The king promised. "It feels strange is all. Nothing to worry about. Now, slowly work the hole wider. Circular motions work best." Thorin felt himself gasp as Bilbo's finger began to move inside him. It was a strange, but not entirely unpleasant feeling. He swallowed before he panted out the next instruction.

"As soon as you can, add a second finger," Thorin said between impassioned gasps. He had had no idea how much he would enjoy the feeling of Bilbo's fingers inside him and worried that he would shame himself by finishing before this was even started.

"Yes," he said as he felt Bilbo comply. "Good. Now, do this," he demonstrated with his own fingers and felt his head fall back of it's own accord when Bilbo mimicked him. Bilbo stared down in shock at the panting dwarf below him. He had not expected the King to be aroused by this, thinking that he had only agreed to it out of some strange sense of honor, but it was clear that he was enjoying it and seeing such a controlled person so undone aroused the hobbit, almost painfully so.

"Now, we're almost there," Thorin said, his voice breathy. "Try to get one more finger in." He flinched as Bilbo did as he had said. This time it was a bit painful, but he forced himself to relax and soon the pain faded and pleasure took its place. He felt a moan rise up his throat at the sensation and did nothing to try to stop it. He couldn't have done it even had he have wanted to.

"When you're ready," the king said looking at Bilbo with eyes that couldn't quite bring him into focus. "Coat yourself in the oil and  _slowly_  press yourself in.  _Slowly."_  Bilbo nodded that he understood and removed his fingers from Thorin and coated himself in the oil. The dwarf king almost mourned the loss of the pressure, but soon it was replaced. He closed his eyes and groaned as Bilbo slowly pushed into him and his body tried to protest the intrusion.

"Thorin?" Bilbo asked, concern evident in his voice. "Are you—"

"I'm fine," the king answered. "Stay still for a moment, if you will." The hobbit said nothing but he didn't move either. Slowly the feeling that he was being intruded upon faded and a sense of pleasure took its place. He shifted his hips experimentally and was rewarded both with his own pleasure and Bilbo's surprised gasp.

"Please, Thorin," Bilbo begged. "Can I move yet? I can't stand this much longer." Thorin felt something go through him at the question. For the first time he realized that being penetrated did not necessarily mean submitting.

"Yes," Thorin gasped out. "Move." The hobbit did not need telling twice and set a punishing pace that soon had them both gasping for breath while their bodies sweated and trembled. Bilbo, for all his tentativeness at the start, turned out to be a rather passionate lover. When he accidently brushed against the place deep inside Thorin that had a cry rising up his throat and stars dancing before his eyes, rather than apologize, he grabbed the dwarf King's hips and positioned them so that he hit it with every thrust.

The King found that he did not care that the hobbit had taken control. He was lost in the waves of sensation that flooded through him. Never before had he lost himself so completely in the tide of passion, he didn't even realize that his orgasm was coming until it hit. The force of it causing a roar to leave him as he spilled his seed. As the inner walls of the King tightened around him, it drove Bilbo over the edge as well, Thorin's name on his lips.

They lay like that for some time, panting and attempting to recover their sanity wrapped in the arms of the other. Thorin recovered first and placed a gentle kiss on the sweaty curls of the hobbit still sprawled across his chest.

"Do you see now?" he asked. Bilbo looked up at him, his hazel eyes still clouded in the aftermath of their lovemaking. "How pleasant this can be?"

"Did you enjoy it?" Bilbo asked, suddenly feeling self conscious. He had enjoyed himself, but Thorin. What would the king think that he had used him like that for his own pleasure?

"Immensely, my burglar," Thorin replied with a gentle smile. "Much more than I thought I would."

"Why?" Bilbo asked suddenly. "If you didn't know that you would enjoy it why did you ask me to do it?"

Thorin sighed and looked away before he answered. "I felt that I owed it to you," he finally said. "I have never allowed anyone to take me before. You had your innocence taken for my sake and I figured that I owed you mine." Bilbo's eyes widened in shock. He felt as though he had just been struck. Thorin had given himself to him because he felt guilty for what had happened? He hadn't know that was the only reason this had happened.

"You didn't have to," Bilbo replied, a bitter smile on his face. "You owed me nothing. I don't blame you for what happened."

"You should," Thorin replied his voice hard. "If only I had—"

"No," Bilbo said cutting off the king. "It was not your fault. Nor was it mine. I've thought about this a lot since it happened. Neither of us caused it, nor could we have prevented it. It wasn't our fault."

"But—"

"No," Bilbo smiled sadly. "You don't need to feel guilty. I'm sorry I put you through this for something that was not your fault." Thorin was confused at his words and the cold tone they had been delivered in. What had he said that had upset the hobbit? He felt his eyes widen as he realized what Bilbo must be thinking.

"I did not do this solely to ease my conscience," Thorin replied, his voice gentle and his eyes soft. "I did it because I wanted to do it. I wanted you, Bilbo Baggins. And I would have you again, if you will have me."

"What are you saying," Bilbo asked. He hadn't anticipated this. Was Thorin saying what he thought he was? That was impossiable. Why would he have feelings like that for a hobbit?

"I am . . . fond of you," Thorin replied, the words stilted and his expression unsure. "I would like to keep you by my side. Forever if you would stay there."

"Thorin," Bilbo asked, a smile crossing his face. "Are you saying that you love me?"

"Yes," Thorin said, his tone confused as though his answer surprised even him. "I suppose I am. I love you, Bilbo Baggins." As he said the last words he raised his chin as though daring Bilbo to laugh at his feelings. As it was, Bilbo did laugh. Not as his feelings, but at the image Thorin presented. It is difficult to look intimidating while lying on your back and not wearing a stitch.

"Does that mean that you do not return my feelings," Thorin asked feeling strangely hurt by Bilbo's laughter.

"Thorin Oakenshield," Bilbo replied looking the dwarf steadily in the eye. "You may be the densest person in the whole of Arda. I love you. I have for some time now." Nothing followed this declaration. They were too spent to consummate their newly stated love that night, so they returned to camp. And if the others noticed that the king had a slight limp to his step, well, no one said anything.

Over the following weeks, the haunted look in Bilbo's eyes slowly faded and he began to laugh freely with them once more. By the time they faced the spiders in Mirkwood he was almost completely himself once more, though he did experience a bit of a relapse when Thorin and the others were captured by the Elves and upon freeing them would not be separated from Thorin for any reason. It was no surprise to any of them when he stayed in Erebor with Thorin after it was reclaimed. And if on the nights Thorin had to be away on official business Bilbo could still be heard to weep, no one commented on it, though Fíli and Kíli tended to spend those nights in the Royal Chambers with their Uncle-by-Marriage—with Thorin's blessing, of course. Life went on and eventually, the ordeal with the White Orc faded until it was nothing more than a memory—one that Bilbo never visited if he could help it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all for this one folks. As for the fluffy ending, I couldn't stand to let Thorin die after everything that I had already put Bilbo through. Though the ending where he does is written and I would be willing to post it if there is any desire for it. 
> 
> I hope that you enjoyed this fic (if enjoyed is the right word :/ ) Anyway, thank you for taking the time to read it and I would love to know what you thought!


	3. Alternate Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ending for the story in which cannon is observed and it ends like the book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright all, I wasn't going to post it but it was requested. All I can say is . . . you might want to have the tissues ready. It ain't gonna be pretty. Just remember, you asked for it!

Over the following weeks, the haunted look in Bilbo's eyes slowly faded and he began to laugh freely with them once more. By the time they faced the spiders in Mirkwood he was almost completely himself once more, though he did experience a bit of a relapse when Thorin and the others were captured by the Elves and upon freeing them would not be separated from Thorin for any reason.

That was something that was forced to change when Bilbo went into the mountain to face Smaug. Thorin could not come with him for both their safeties and it wasn’t only the encounter with the dragon that had him shaking when he came back up from the tunnel. The mocking tone in Smaug’s voice had reminded Bilbo so much of the tone Azog had used to speak that for the first time in months, the hobbit had nightmares.

He was back in that _horrible_ clearing, reliving it all. His screams and pleas as he fought a no-longer-existent foe were shrill and loud enough to wake the entire company (and make them fear he would rouse the dragon), though he refused to wake. He was so caught in his horror that once they did manage to wake him, he couldn’t stand for anyone—even Thorin—to touch him and sat huddled against the rocks at the edge of camp sobbing and muttering to himself that it wasn’t real and that Azog was dead.

Things only went downhill from there. Bilbo hadn’t even recovered from his first encounter with Smaug when he was sent back again. And then . . . then they were trapped underground by the secret door being broken by the dragon. Smaug was gone and they had the run of Erebor, but Bilbo couldn’t stand it. True, it had been days—he wasn’t sure how many since he hadn’t seen the sun—since Smaug had left, but he could still come back. The stress of waiting to be incinerated or eaten was taking its toll on the hobbit’s sanity. And Thorin wasn’t helping matters. Even though Bilbo knew it wasn’t _that_ kind of lust, seeing the lust for gold that burned in his lover’s eyes . . . the hungry expression that was on Thorin’s face . . . the way that he didn’t seem to notice when Bilbo flinched away from his just too rough caresses. No. It didn’t help at all.

By the time the news of Smaug’s death and the subsequent ultimatum from the Elves and Men came, Bilbo was a nervous wreck. He couldn’t eat, his fear making him nauseated. He couldn’t sleep because of the recurring nightmares. He knew that he had to look ghastly as he stood there on with the dwarves as Thorin turned down their request. He tried to reason with Thorin, tried to reach the dwarf who had treated him so delicately after his ordeal through the madness—there was so much gold. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to let them have some. After all Bard _did_ kill Smaug—but the rage in his lover’s blue eyes at his suggestion had made him fear Thorin. For the first time since they had met, he had no idea what the King would do.

It was this that made him give the Arkenstone to the Elves and Men.  He had thought that perhaps with it they could make Thorin see reason and break him of his gold madness. He had been wrong. He had also thought that by telling Thorin what he had done with the fondness the King had for him—he had let him _take_ him after all—he would see the foolishness of his obsession. Again, he had been wrong.

Thorin, the one person who had been there for him and had made him feel _right_ again . . . Thorin tried to _kill_ him. His hands on Bilbo as he lifted the hobbit to throw him to his death reminded Bilbo so much of the hands of the Pale Orc that Bilbo couldn’t even bring himself to beg. With the madness that was in Thorin’s eyes he knew that it would only make him happy. As it had pleased Azog when the others had begged. If Thorin was going to kill him, Bilbo would at least deny the dwarf the satisfaction of hearing him beg for his life.

But Thorin hadn’t killed him. Instead Gandalf had “saved” him, condemning Bilbo to spend a night surrounded by Big Folk he didn’t know. He stayed as close to Gandalf as he could, but he couldn’t bring himself to explain why he clutched at the wizards robes when he made to leave him. He had never told Gandalf what happened that night, and he doubted the others had either since they never spoke of it, and he couldn’t bear to do so now. Instead, he buried his face in Gandalf’s knee and wept for everything that he had lost: his innocence, which had been taken from him by Azog; and his heart his soul, which Thorin had just ripped from him when he tried to kill him and in the process became lost to Bilbo forever.

That night, when he pleaded for it to stop in the throes of his nightmare, everyone around who knew what had happened on the mountain looked at him in pity assuming that he was pleading with the dwarf King not to kill him. They tried to rouse him. However, after the first of them was bitten in the attempt to wake him they left him to his nightmares.

The next day, the Battle of the Five Armies took place. It was more than poor Bilbo’s nerves could take. The sight of all those orcs and goblins rushing at him, the black blood filling the air. He froze. And he would have died, had not a timely arrow from an old friend saved him. He glanced around looking for the dwarf that had shot it only to see Kíli clutching at his stomach nearby as an orc scimitar protruded from it. He was wounded, mortally so.

Bilbo ran to his side, grabbing the dwarf as he fell to his knees—the first voluntary physical contact the hobbit had engaged in in weeks. Kíli looked at him with wide, pain-filled brown eyes that just managed to lock on Bilbo’s hazel eyes before the light in them faded. Bilbo shook him, but there was no reply. Kíli was dead. Bilbo tried in vain to spot Fíli who he knew would be near his brother, but there were no dwarves nearby. Kíli had been alone.

What Bilbo didn’t know was that Thorin, repenting of his actions, had sent Kíli to make sure that Bilbo was alright and to bring him back if he could—knowing that Kíli was his closest friend within the company. But Kíli hadn’t been able to deliver his message. Even though Bilbo never knew that Thorin was the one that had sent him—and might have been angry had he known—Bilbo knew that Kíli had tried to protect him. Kíli might be dead, but he could still offer him something. He had seen what the orcs and goblins did to the fallen and vowed to himself that Kíli would not suffer that fate. So he stayed near Kíli’s body. He slipped on the Ring and with the invisibility it granted him slew any orc or goblin that dared to come near the fallen dwarf. He would not let them mutilate him.

That was, until a blow to the head caused him to lose consciousness. When he awoke, there was an orc face inches from his own. He sat up with a scream, his mind flashing back to the last time an orc had been that close to him as it held his hair and forced him to endure the unthinkable. When it didn’t react, he realized that it was dead. Taking a deep shuddering breath, Bilbo looked around himself. Kíli’s body was gone, as were all the bodies of the fallen of the alliance. He was surrounded by dead and dying orcs and goblins, their faces and bodies contorted unnaturally in death. If he hadn’t already suffered from nightmares, this would have been enough to fuel them for eternity.

He looked around desperately for anyone he knew but saw no one. In the distance there were two tall figures, one of whom resembled Gandalf, combing through the carnage looking for survivors. Bilbo stood and picked his way to them, tears falling from his face and bile rising up his throat as he stepped in blood and other disgusting things, occasionally hearing the crunch of bone when there was no alternative to stepping on the body of a fallen goblin. The feeling of flesh shifting under his feet would haunt him to his dying day.

When he reached them, he saw that he had been right. It was Gandalf, and a blonde Elf he didn’t know. The Elf was kneeling beside one of his kin, sadness on his ageless face as he closed eyes that should never have been forced to face mortality. Bilbo felt it was wrong to intrude but couldn’t resist the urge to bury his face in Gandalf’s stained robes and weep. For the fact that he was alive, for the wish to die rather than live with his memories, even he wasn’t sure. But he knew that he needed to cry and that Gandalf might be the only person that would understand. And if not, the wizard at least owed it to him. It was the wizard’s fault Bilbo had come on this blasted adventure in the first place.  

It took the Gandalf’s confused voice to remind Bilbo that he still wore the Ring, which he then slipped off before clutching the wizard once more. The look of pity in Gandalf’s blue eyes should have upset him, he should have resented it, but he was just so _broken_. He didn’t even struggle against the wizard’s hold when Gandalf lifted him and carried him off the field whispering apologies for all that the hobbit had been forced to endure. It was only once he saw their destination that he began to struggle. Gandalf was taking him to a pavilion that had been set up on the lawn: a pavilion bearing the symbol of Durin.

Bilbo had no desire to see his ex-lover, even when he was told that Thorin was dying. Didn’t they understand that Thorin had betrayed Bilbo in ways that were not comparable to the betrayal Bilbo had committed against him? He had taken not only Bilbo’s heart but his ability to trust. He didn’t want to see him. Even so, when he was set down beside Thorin’s death bed and the dwarf looked at him, Bilbo felt the heart he had thought was gone break within him. Looking up at him was not the mad dwarf that had tried to kill him but the gentle King that had loved him so tenderly.

It was unbelievably cruel that fate would give him back to Bilbo just in time to take him away once more, but even without seeing the wounds beneath the bandages, Bilbo knew that Thorin would not survive the night. His chest was caved in unnaturally and there was a watery gurgle with every breath. The dwarf would be lucky to make it to dusk. There were no words exchanged between them—what words can be said to apologize for trying to kill someone?—but there was understanding. Bilbo knew that Thorin was sorry and Thorin knew that it was too little too late. Bilbo would never forgive him.

Perhaps it was this knowledge that crushed whatever it was that had enabled Thorin to survive so long, but within minutes of Bilbo entering the pavilion, Thorin was dead. Bilbo did not cry. His hurt was too deep for tears, but to him, Thorin Oakenshield had been dead ever since he dangled Bilbo over the wall. He had already mourned him. This was nothing. The loss of an empty shell that had once meant so much to him.

He didn’t stay for the funerals. For Fíli and Kíli, it was too painful. For Thorin it was pointless. Why should he watch the shell interred when the soul had long since passed? Instead, he and Gandalf began the long ride home. The wizard seemed concerned that Bilbo never smiled but Bilbo didn’t care. He was tainted, through loss and pain and the actions of others. What did he have left to smile for?

One night, they stopped to rest for the night and as Bilbo was beginning to prepare dinner he saw something shining in the dirt. He bent to pick it up and was dismayed to see one of his own buttons. He had thought that something about this place felt wrong and now he knew why. This was _there:_ the clearing where his nightmares had begun. He dropped the button as if it had scalded him and demanded that they move immediately. Gandalf had looked at him strangely, but glanced from Bilbo to the button and back again before he nodded and packed up all that he had unpacked and they started out again.

Bilbo could feel Gandalf’s eyes on him as he rode, see the silent question that burned there, but he didn’t have it in him to explain why the clearing had upset him. Just being back there, he felt drained. That night Bilbo didn’t sleep. When he closed his eyes, he could feel again the harsh touches of Azog, but worse were the tender memories that his brain clung to in a vain attempt to comfort itself, memories that were almost worse. Memories of tender caresses and softly whispered words of admiration. Of blue eyes soft with love and soft, intimate kisses. Those memories almost hurt him worse that what Azog had done because on their heels came the same eyes darkened with hatred and same lips as hard lines saying cruel things, the same hands grasping him hard enough to bruise. Even if his last memories of the King Under the Mountain had been of his tender lover returned, the one that he would always remember would be the angry dwarf that chose gold and treasure over love.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we are all. This truly is the end on this one. I apologize from the bottom of my heart for this chapter.


End file.
